


You Comin', Fuckface?

by bravado



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Mickey really wants to ride Ian's face ok, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 17:44:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2437424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravado/pseuds/bravado
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You wanna sit on my face.” Mickey freezes, one hand braced on the floor by Ian’s head. Then he scowls.</p><p>“The fuck did you just say?” He growls, immediately losing his playful edge. Ian rolls his eyes, because the signs have all been there but of course Mickey’s going to be a repressed asshole about this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Comin', Fuckface?

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Присоединишься?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3517973) by [Nataliny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nataliny/pseuds/Nataliny)



The first time Ian notices it they’re on the couch.

He’d convinced Mickey to come over while the rest of the Gallaghers were visiting Lip at college, who had only laughed when Ian explained why he wouldn’t be visiting with them. So an hour after Fiona troops the kids off to the L, Ian has a lapful of Mickey Milkovich, whose hands are tight in red hair while he kisses Ian viciously. That’s the thing about Mickey – he feels the need to compensate with aggression, so Ian will suffer the stinging bites if only for the softness of Mickey’s tongue minutes later.

Things get heated quickly, clothes discarded before Mickey is urging Ian onto his back on the couch and straddling his hips, grinding down against his cock. Ian grunts, gets broad hands onto the pale skin of Mickey’s hips, pulls them forward. Above him Mickey is grinning.

“Yeah?” Mickey smirks, pressing himself down in little circles. Ian just holds Mickey's hips tighter when he feels the head of his cock brush against Mickey’s cleft. Pre-come is dripping from Mickey’s cock onto Ian’s stomach so Ian reaches down to give him a few playful strokes, Mickey dropping his head back and groaning.

Then Mickey glances up, and he’s looking at Ian but he’s not. No, it’s more like he’s looking at Ian’s face, or the space around Ian’s head. For a moment Ian thinks to ask, but that’s thrown out the window when Mickey grunts out a ‘fuck me’ and reaches around to press Ian’s cock to his slick hole.

Ian goes with it, because Mickey’s ass is amazing, and afterwards he can’t quite remember what Mickey had even done to give him pause.

 

* * *

 

They’re fucking when it happens again.

“ _Fuck_ , Gallagher.”

Mickey’s grunting breathily into his pillow, fists bunched in the sheets while Ian pounds into him from behind. Mandy’s at work and Svetlana’s fucked off god knows where with the baby, so they can be loud for once. Grinning, Ian leans forward and presses himself to Mickey’s back, the new angle making Mickey gasp and shudder.

“That good?” Ian asks the nape of Mickey’s neck, gets an affectionately irritated growl in response.

“Fuck you, you know damn well it’s – ah, _fuck_ \- good.” Mickey’s breath catches when Ian reaches up to run fingers through his hair, the other still bruising on his hip. His head drops forward Ian’s hand stays, the movement causing him to inadvertently tug Mickey’s hair. It earns him a surprised little groan.

“You’re so hot like this.” Ian grunts, fucking harder into Mickey’s pliant body, feeling the sweat on the back of Mickey’s thighs. “So fucking noisy, I love it.” Mickey tenses a little, but Ian didn’t say I love _you_ , so he seems to let it go for the time being – Ian counts it as a win.

Letting go of Mickey’s hair, Ian reaches down to rub a hand across Mickey’s chest, brushing fingertips over his nipples before pinching them sharply. As usual Mickey tries to hold in the sounds, but with the way Ian’s thrusting into him so deep, so hard, it’s impossible to keep the tiny gasping whines back. Ian laughs breathily, gets a hand digging nails into his hip for it.

“Oh, _fuck_ Mick.” He gasps when Mickey then uses that hand on his hip to pull him forward, pull him deeper. “I’m gonna have you ride me after this, _fuck_.” Beneath him Mickey shudders, clenches down, but makes no noise other than a hitched breath. "You gonna ride me?" Ian teases, and Mickey moans long and low. Apparently he likes the idea, so Ian runs with it, slips his hand down to pump at Mickey’s cock. “You can just grind down on me for ages, fuck yourself on me, Mickey, _Jesus_. Maybe I’ll eat you out first-”

Suddenly Mickey’s gasping out groans, coming hard and covering Ian’s hand in hot wetness. Maybe it’s because they haven’t been able to really go at it lately but Mickey seems even more into it than usual, whole body tensing and shuddering around Ian and it’s no wonder than Ian only lasts a few more deep thrusts before he’s coming too, pulsing inside Mickey’s clenching body.

Slumping forward, Ian takes a minute to catch his breath against Mickey’s back, knowing his weight is pressing Mickey into the mattress but not really caring. From the way Mickey’s panting he doesn’t seem to mind either.

Ian’s hand is still pressed under Mickey’s hips, quickly getting sticky, so he wriggles it free. Mickey curses out protests when Ian accidentally brushes his sensitive cock.

“Sorry.” Ian mutters, entirely not sorry and smiling as he pulls out and gets rid of the condom. Then he flops down next to Mickey and grins when he blinks one eye open to glare at Ian.

“The fuck you grinning at?” Mickey grunts, rolling into Ian’s side. “Move, asshat. I’m in the fuckin’ wet spot.” Ian moves over, but only enough that Mickey still has to press up to his side to avoid the come slowly staining the sheets.

“You gonna be up to riding me for round two, princess?” Ian teases and Mickey yanks at the reddish hairs on his thigh in warning. It hurts like fuck so Ian slaps Mickey on the ass, which starts a half-hearted wresting match. Ian keeps teasing Mickey because he can, because Mickey smiles despite himself.

“Fuck you, I’ll ride your fuckin’ face, see how you like that.” Mickey grunts when he pins Ian a few minutes later. Ian just laughs, flips them so that he can hold Mickey down and jab at his sides. It doesn’t stop him from seeing the odd twist of Mickey’s lips, the hint of disappointment in his eyes that makes no sense.

Later Mickey rides him, keeps a hand in Ian’s hair the whole time for some reason.

 

* * *

 

Ian starts to cotton on when he catches Mickey watching porn.

It’s three in the morning and he just got home from work but Ian needs a shower, the creaking of the old pipes in the Milkovich house probably waking Mickey. Ian’s almost dead on his feet, can barely stay awake through his shower, so when he stumbles into their bedroom with damp hair and a towel around his waist he’s really ready to just fall into bed.

He jolts to a stop in the doorway when he sees Mickey, illuminated by a laptop screen, lazily fingering himself.

Mickey’s on his back, knees spread and hips rolling up gently, his cock hard and heavy and leaking against his stomach. The sheets are kicked to the end of the bed, along with Mickey’s boxers, leaving him with one of Ian’s old ROTC shirts rucked up under his armpits as he works himself open. When Ian doesn’t move any further into the room Mickey tears his eyes away from the laptop just long enough to raise a dark brow at him.

“Comin’ in?” He grunts out, angling his wrist to push a little deeper. Ian shuts the door and drops the towel, crawls onto the bed so that he can lie beside Mickey’s hip and suck his cock into his mouth. Mickey gasps, hips stuttering as he tries to decide whether to push up into Ian’s mouth or down onto his own fingers.

Not bothering to tease, Ian just blows Mickey sloppily, ignoring the saliva and pre-come dripping down his chin. Mickey moans softly every now and then, but otherwise isn’t vocal and the porn is muted, leaving them in silence. The light of the laptop illuminates Mickey’s skin prettily and Ian strokes fingers over his thigh, grips a little tighter when Mickey comes down his throat minutes later.

Ian is too tired to try anything fancy, just swallows what he can and wipes the rest from his chin and lips. He considers going for a tissue, but shrugs and licks the remaining come off his fingers, Mickey making a pleased little noise at the sight.

“M’tired.” Ian says simply, forgoing boxers to curl up at Mickey’s side. For a minute Ian thinks Mickey will complain, bitchy little spoon that he is, but then he’s wiping his hand off on the stained sheets and wrapping an arm over Ian’s hip.

Ian’s on the edge of sleep when Mickey reaches over to shut the laptop, catches a glimpse of one guy kneeling over another guy’s head before the screen dims.

He doesn’t think about it again for a few days.

 

* * *

 

Ian finally gets it when Mickey straddles his chest in the middle of an actual wrestling match over the Chinese takeout menu.

It had been more playful that violent, Ian already a little hard in his pants, but when Mickey’s knees bracket his ribs and Mickey settles his weight on Ian’s chest _he knows_. Ian grins with the realisation, enjoys Mickey’s fading smirk before he speaks.

“You wanna sit on my face.”

Mickey freezes, one hand braced on the floor by Ian’s head. Then he scowls.

“The _fuck_ did you just say?” He snarls, immediately losing his playful edge. Ian rolls his eyes, because the signs have all been there but of course Mickey’s going to be a repressed asshole about this.

“You want to ride my face.” Ian says slowly, drawing out the words as if he was talking to someone particularly thick. Which, when it comes to asking for what he wants, Mickey really can be. “You want me to eat your ass while you sit on my face.”

Mickey’s looking part horrified, part turned on, so Ian knows he’s hit the nail on the head. Of course, that doesn’t mean Mickey’s going to go down – ha _ha_ \- without a fight.

“Fuck off, Gallagher. I’m not some bitch ass girl.” He growls, pushing up so that he’s sitting at his full height. Still sitting on Ian’s chest, mind you. Ian grins.

“Never said you were, Mick.” He says, bringing his hands up to grip Mickey’s thighs. “But you’re constantly looking at the space around my head when we fuck, and you come straight away when I mention you riding me and getting eaten out in the same sentence. Oh, and the porn you were watching the other night.” He adds with a smirk.

“Fuck you, it was the first thing that came up.” It’s not very convincing, but Mickey’s not looking Ian in the eye and his cheeks are the tiniest bit pinker than usual. Ian knows he’s almost won.

“C’mon Mickey." He mock-pleads,"Remember how you wouldn’t let me rim you for almost two months after the first time I asked?” The flush creeping up Mickey’s neck certainly remembers. “Remember how I only had my tongue on you for about a minute before you came?” It’s a low blow, Ian knows it, but suddenly Mickey’s clambering off him and trudging towards their room, tearing off his shirt as he goes. Ian sits up and takes a moment to bask in his victory.

“Hurry up fuckface, or I’m getting myself off!” Comes a shout from down the hall. Ian laughs and heads after him.

Mickey’s already naked when he comes into the room, but Ian takes the time to shut and lock the door, unsure of when Mandy and Svetlana will be home. Turning back, Ian doesn’t rush to the bed. He goes slowly about undressing, casually pulling his shirt off, then his socks and jeans, leaving his boxers for the time being. On the bed Mickey’s stroking himself to full hardness, eyeing the bulge in Ian’s boxers but making no move closer. He looks a little unsure, kneeling there on their rumpled sheets, face and chest faintly flushed. Ian smiles, still a bit teasing but also reassuring as he joins Mickey on the bed.

Ian knows to start the kiss deep, to press his tongue between Mickey’s lips and run it along the ridges of the roof of his mouth, to take before he gives. Predictably Mickey feeds into it, giving as good as he gets and biting at Ian’s lips from time to time, fisting hands in the longer parts of Ian’s hair. Ian’s blunt nails bite into Mickey’s side where he’s gripping him. Gradually Ian eases the kiss back, turns it into fire rather than fists, burning through them instead of hitting them with the force of it. He draws back slowly, feels Mickey try to follow.

“In front of the headboard?” He suggests, voice low with arousal. The gears seem to take a while to start working in Mickey’s head because he just looks at Ian blankly for a minute. Ian grins, but doesn’t laugh. Laughing at Mickey now would most definitely end in blue balls and a pissy boyfriend. Instead Ian scoots back, adjusting one of the pillows so that he can lie with his head by the centre of the headboard. Then he raises a brow at Mickey.

“Oh.” Mickey says. It’s endearing and Ian reaches for Mickey’s hips as he crawls up the bed and Ian's body on his knees. He’s straddling Ian’s shoulders when he pauses, barely brushing Ian’s skin with the inside of his thighs.

“Are you-”

“Just sit on my face, Mick.” Ian instructs, grabbing two handfuls of Mickey’s ass and urging him forward. For a moment he scowls, looks like he might protest, but then he scoots the last few inches forward until he’s kneeling over Ian’s head. “Hands on the headboard. No touching yourself.” Ian adds, then waits until Mickey rolls his eyes and complies, whacking his palms against the headboard dramatically. Ian smirks and presses a kiss to his inner thigh, kneading Mickey’s ass as he begins to suck a mark there.

“C’mon, Firecrotch. Just do it.” Mickey grits when Ian keeps sucking hickeys into his pale thighs, fingers on his ass brushing his cleft every now and then but never more than a fleeting touch. Patience isn’t one of Mickey’s virtues, even less so when he’s insecure or horny, so Ian ruefully abandons soft thighs to lick a thick stripe over Mickey's balls. Mickey shifts a little, inhaling sharply, but otherwise stays put, neither pulling away nor getting closer. So Ian smirks, accepts the challenge, and spreads Mickey’s cheeks to lave wetly at Mickey’s hole.

The reaction is instant, Mickey making a bitten-off noise as his hips jerk back a little.

He contains himself quickly, but that only makes Ian more eager, pressing his tongue up between Mickey’s cheeks. The angle is odd, not what Ian’s used to at all, but he uses his grip on Mickey’s ass to adjust him, pressing his hips forward a little to get better access. He licks across Mickey’s hole a few times, just getting it wet, then seals his mouth over it and rubs his tongue around the rim, pressing in a little every now and then to make Mickey gasp. Breathing gets kind of difficult after a while, so Ian pulls back and presses the tip of his tongue firmly against Mickey’s hole, feels him tense before forcing himself to relax.

It’s incredibly sexy, feeling Mickey’s every move above him, even more so when his thighs go taught as Ian pushes his tongue in just a little before going back to circling his rim. Ian tilts his head, glances up, but Mickey’s still holding the headboard. His head has dropped forward though, mouth open and eyes squeezed shut while blush colours his cheeks. Smirking, Ian bites his thigh sharply, causing Mickey to yelp – a noise that quickly shifts to a loud moan when Ian spreads him further and sucks at his hole.

“ _Jesus_ , Gallagher.” Mickey gasps, hips shifting back just a little before he catches himself. Ian is having none of that. Instead he grips Mickey’s ass a little tighter and pulls him down, forcing Mickey’s hips back as he presses his tongue firmly to Mickey’s hole, loving the way Mickey instinctively relaxes for him.

“Fuck, _Ian_.”

That’s much better, Ian thinks, slowly beginning to fuck Mickey with his tongue, pressing it in and out of his hole. Already Mickey’s breathing is laboured, his hips beginning to press back of their own accord. Ian lets his finger brush Mickey’s wet rim as he continues to push his tongue into him and – yep, Mickey’s definitely starting to ride his face, hips rocking back with more intent. Ian grins, seals his mouth over Mickey’s hole again and laps messily at it, slipping his tongue in on every other pass to make Mickey’s hips jolt.

It’s almost ten minutes later when Mickey begins to lose it, thighs trembling on either side of Ian’s head and hips thrusting back against Ian’s tongue. It’s insanely hot, Ian’s erection tenting his boxers painfully, but fuck if he’s going to stop to look after himself. He could jerk himself off, but his hands are squeezing at Mickey’s ass cheeks, holding him open so Ian can run his tongue from his balls to his hole, pressing sloppy kisses to his rim. Above him Mickey’s moaning, long low ones followed by sharp little noises whenever Ian pushes his tongue in. He sounds desperate, groans almost turning to sobs as he keeps rocking back, truly riding Ian’s face.

“Fuck, _fuck_ Ian, I can’t- I gotta-” He’s mumbling, voice just this side of trembling.

Ian figures he’ll give it another minute before he offers Mickey a hand, keeps lapping at his hole and loving the way his own saliva must be shining on his face and Mickey’s ass. He runs the flat of his tongue over Mickey’s rim again, slipping a finger down to circle the wet opening before pushing his tongue in one last time.

“Ian, _Ian_ , fuck, I need to-”

Shoving his tongue into Mickey, Ian is just about to let go of his ass to reach around and jerk him off when suddenly Mickey lets out a broken shout and comes. Ian licks him through it, laves his tongue over Mickey’s clenching hole as his body trembles above Ian. He feels what he’s pretty sure is some of Mickey’s come splatter across his forehead but ignores it, using his firm grip on Mickey’s ass to hold his hips down. He keeps fucking into him with his tongue until Mickey’s gasping and shaking with overstimulation. Only then does Ian soften his grip, letting Mickey lift his hips and hover, thighs shivering, as he pants for a minute.

“Fuck.” He breathes, then crawls back and flops onto the mattress beside Ian. His fingers look stiff from holding the headboard, knuckles flushed red as blood rushes back into them, but it matches the mottled blush of his chest, neck and face. Mickey glances over to Ian, a sated little grin on his face. “You’re fuckin’ gross.” He mutters, reaching out to wipe the come from Ian’s forehead, “Covered in fuckin’ jizz and spit.”

It doesn’t stop Mickey from rolling over a few minutes later and kissing Ian sloppy and slow while he slips a hand into Ian’s boxers to jerk him off. Ian comes with a grunt soon after, one hand having wandered possessively back to Mickey’s ass, fingertips brushing his still wet hole.

When they’ve wiped themselves off on dirty shirts (Mickey thinks he’s subtle cleaning off the headboard. He’s not.) they lie together, satisfied and loose, Ian grinning at Mickey.

“You like it?” He asks, kicking Mickey playfully in the shin when he pretends not to hear him.

“It was alright.” Mickey grunts happily, rolling onto his stomach, the blush still covering him saying otherwise. Ian’s not satisfied, presses close to Mickey’s side and runs a hand down his back, taking a firm grip of his ass.

“Mickey, you came untouched up my forehead and onto the headboard.” He points out matter-of-factly, gets a glare and a shoulder to the chest for it. Ian grins and Mickey shoves his face into his pillow. “Come on, Mick. You liked it, it’s okay to admit it. I fucking loved it.” He adds this last part lowly, breathed into Mickey’s pink-flushed ear.

Mickey turns his head under the pretence of glaring again, but Ian knows he’s really checking to see if Ian’s being sincere. Ian smirks.

“What the fuck ever, Gallagher.”

Over the next few months Ian ends up washing come out of his hair more times than he’d like to count. Still, it’s worth it for the way Mickey tentatively grumbles out the demand to ride his face the first few times, the way he eventually starts asking for it.

**Author's Note:**

> Written because a friend on tumblr started talking about Ian/Mickey face-sitting and I really couldn't resist.


End file.
